Little Misunderstandings
by Gayle
Summary: A month after his move to Bag End, Frodo gets sick and worries about what Bilbo will think of him. Non slash, no nudity or harsh language. Rating is just to be safe. Read and review, but no flames please.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer, I do not own any hobbits or settings in this little piece of fiction.  
  
Summary: This is a bonding story that takes place shortly after Frodo moves in with Bilbo, so he is a bit unsure as to how to act in front of him. Bilbo can be rather intimidating sometimes, when he is just getting to know him, but he's a very nice person, really. He cares a great deal for Frodo, but being a bachelor, he isn't sure how to react to a sick tweenager. May be AU, so be warned. P.S. Frodo is a bit paranoid about his relationship with his guardian at this point.  
  
I was having a terrible nightmare. In it I felt as if I was on fire, with nothing to put it out. I shouted for Bilbo, but he couldn't see me or hear me, for some reason. I was on my own. I screamed, and then waited. I couldn't see the fire I just felt it. Finally, I felt some form of blessed relief as someone gently washed my face with a rag. I heard my name being called from somewhere, so I answered, or at least tried to. It came out a moan. "Come on, lad, open your eyes." Somehow, I forced them open, and was rewarded by Bilbo looking down at me, smiling. "There you are. I was worried about you. You have a fever and were talking in your sleep. Whatever were you dreaming about my boy?"  
  
"I was dreaming about being hot. It was like I was on fire, but I couldn't see the flames." I sniffled, noting how the cold that I had earlier was getting worse. Bilbo winced slightly when I did so. I'd forgotten that he didn't like that. Quickly I snatched my handkerchief and blew my nose, embarrassed, and then I continued, "You couldn't see me, or hear me, but I could see you." I began to cough, and Bilbo watched me with concern as I clutched the blanket to my chest in an effort to alleviate the pain that was tightening there. I then rubbed at my eyes, which were also starting to feel funny. They were itchy, very itchy.   
  
Bilbo moved my hand away from them and peered into each one. "Well, Frodo, your eyes certainly are red, have you been rubbing them often? They're bloodshot."  
  
I had been rubbing at them, they were very irritated, so I nodded. "Yes Uncle, they itch. They haven't itched this badly and been this watery since my last allergy attack. Anyway, they hurt too." I sighed, which was a big mistake, because it made me want to cough again. I hate colds, and told Bilbo so.  
  
He patted my shoulder, "I know you do, Son, colds are horrible, especially when it's such a nice October day. They make you feel as if your whole body is drained of all energy, but you still want to go out and do things because it's so sunny and pretty outside. I've had them too, my boy."  
  
I knew he knew what it felt like, but I hated them all the same. Oh well, the Gamgees were supposed to be coming over, and Sam was always entertaining, without meaning to be. He says funny things while being perfectly serious, and it's hard not to laugh at him. Even Bilbo likes him to come over, and I never thought of him as a child person, I think that's why he waited until I was older to adopt me and bring me here. Children get crumbs in the sofa cushions and dirty handprints on the cupboards. I settled back in the pillows, allowing myself to feel sleepy.   
  
"Frodo? Frodo, my dear boy, wake up now. It's time for tea."  
  
I didn't want to wake up. The only relief I felt from my sore itchy eyes was keeping them closed. I could feel a soft handkerchief being pressed into my hand, "Here," He said gently, "your nose is running."  
  
I felt my cheeks go red. I hate being in any way messy in front of him; he's so immaculate. I blew my nose, which only loosened more mucus and caused it to be even worse. Bilbo seemed to detect the problem, "I'll go get you another one. Hang on." I felt like crying, I was so embarrassed, "There you are, Lad, it's all right, everyone gets runny noses every once in a while."  
  
I looked up at him gratefully, he did understand. I coughed again, loosening up phlegm. Bilbo sat down on the edge of my bed and patted my back, while I began to sneeze. I felt so helpless, sitting in bed while he watched me make a fool out of myself. I have never felt so ashamed. When I lived at Buckland, there were so many other people that no one cared if you were a bit messy when you were ill, but here, it's just Bilbo and me. I feel sometimes as though I'm in a museum and any loud noise that I make could break something. Like, say, my cousin's eardrums. He might not look it, but he is ninety-nine, and that's an age where loud noises and sloppy children and tweenagers set off a temper and made the old person nervous. An old aunt at Buckland was very grumpy if anyone was loud around her, and she was only eighty-five.  
  
He didn't look annoyed, which I was thankful for, but I wouldn't mind have some company that I wasn't afraid that I was going to anger. "When are Sam and Mr. Gamgee coming over?" I asked, hoping he would say soon, I was wishing for someone to talk to. I still wasn't sure what to say to Bilbo.  
  
"They cannot come, Frodo. They sent word when you were asleep. Sam's ill with the same thing that you have, and Hamfast doesn't want to run the risk of making it worse. But you can still have tea with me. Would you like me to help you move out to the sitting room?"  
  
That was better than nothing, although I was so disappointed that little Samwise and his father couldn't come over. I nodded, "That would be nice, Bilbo. What kinds of tea do you have?"  
  
"Well, I thought perhaps you might enjoy peppermint or chamomile. Does your stomach hurt, by the way, is it upset?"  
  
"No, it's just a horrid cold that won't leave me alone." I lifted my handkerchief up to my face, and sneezed into it three times, as if to prove my point.  
  
He smiled, "I'll go make you a bed out on the sofa, and you can spend the rest of the day out there. Later, I can read to you, if you would like."  
  
"I would like that very much, thank you." I told him as I wondered what kind of books he had. I knew he'd been on adventures, of course, but I wasn't sure what other things he would have to read. I mostly brought my own books, or played outside, when the weather would permit it. I sipped my tea, and chose to ignore the biscuit that rested on my plate; I wasn't hungry, which was most unusual for me. He was watching me again, and I wasn't sure if I liked it, he seems so appraising sometimes. I'm so afraid that I'm going to mess up in front of him, and then he'll send me back to Buckland. I love them there, especially little Merry, but it's so crowded, and I hate feeling crowded. Aunt Esmerelda said that that was the Baggins side of me. "Can I go outside after tea? I haven't had a chance to do that all day."  
  
"Perhaps it's best if you don't today, Frodo. You have quite the cold, you know. Would they have let you if you were at Buckland?"  
  
"I was basically allowed to do whatever I wanted to there, honest." I sighed, it was the truth. When you live with so many people, they hardly care what you do, as long as you not disturbing the other five million people in the smial.   
  
"Well, I don't think it would be a good idea. After all, Hamfast won't allow Sam to venture out of doors. He's raised quite a few children, and none of them are dead yet, so he must be doing something right. If your feeling better, and if the weather holds out, I'll let you tomorrow. Anyway, I thought we were going to read this afternoon. That is, you may do whatever you would like to do, as long as it's an indoor activity, but I thought it would be nice to do something together."  
  
He looked rather disappointed, and I felt bad. "All right, what would you like to do? Can I go have a look at your books?"  
  
He brightened, "Of course you may. I can make some suggestions if you would like, or you may choose for yourself."  
  
"I don't know a lot of your books, maybe you can help me?"  
  
We spent about half an hour looking at his shelves, only because he had so many different types of books. They ranged from what to do if your sink was plugged to the most fantastic fairy-stories one could ever hope to read and everything in between. I finally chose one. He looked at it and smiled. "This is Samwise's favorite book. He likes me to read it every time he comes over, and I hope you like it as well. It's not one story, you see, it's many wrapped in one."  
  
I gaped at him, he and Sam sounded as if they were, well, almost close. I hadn't had Bilbo pegged as the kind of hobbit that wanted small ones around. He seems too particular. He continued, "I'll read you his favorite story. He begs to hear it all the time, and I think he can recite it now."  
  
I nestled under the covers that Bilbo had put on the couch for me to sleep on. The story was quite good, but I found myself falling asleep as he read. I heard him laugh and felt the blanket being pulled up close to me. "Good night, my dear boy. Sleep well." He brushed his hand against my cheek and stopped, seeming almost as if he wanted to do something more, but thought better of it just in time. He just patted me, and left the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Bilbo isn't mine. Frodo isn't mine. They, and all others like them are property of the late, great Mr. Tolkien.  
  
Summary: This chapter is from Bilbo's point of view. He is feeling as if he shouldn't have taken Frodo in at all because he just doesn't seem happy at Bag End. He doesn't think that he's doing a good job at raising him and that Frodo would have been better off at Brand Hall.   
  
I sat down beside Frodo's bed. He was very pale yet flushed at the same time. It was already past elevensies and he hadn't woken up yet. This cold was really taking quite a toll on him. I sat back in a soft armchair beside his bed and thought back to when there had been no lad coming up to me at the close of the day to wish me a good night in a shy, quiet voice, sometimes to punctuate it with an even more awkward hug. Had it really only been a month since he came? I can hardly remember Bag End without him. Still sometimes I think he would have been happier back at Brandy Hall with all his other relations. It was selfish of me to take him from that life to live with an old bachelor who enjoys reading books and writing tales about adventures that happened almost a half century before. I had hoped that he would get to know the Gamgees and make friends with them, but he can be reclusive at times, not coming out of his room except to eat his meals and go outside to sit under or even in his favorite tree. Hobbits aren't supposed to like being up in trees, and I have seen many a small child point up at him in wonder and many a parent grab them by the hand and tell their spouse later that, "that Frodo Baggins was just as odd as his cousin Bilbo."  
  
I was jerked back from my daydreams by Frodo coughing harshly. I reached for a pitcher of water and poured him a cup. It was quite a long time before he recovered enough to drink from it, and even when he did he could only take small sips. "Better?" I asked when he pushed the glass away weakly.  
  
He nodded, "What time is it, Bilbo?"  
  
"Almost time for luncheon, my lad. Are you hungry?"  
  
"Not especially, thank you anyway. My head aches and I…" his voice trailed off as he blushed fiercely, "I'm sorry. No thank you, I think I would just like to try to go back to sleep, if that's all the same with you?"  
  
I was puzzled. What had happened to cause that reaction? Sometimes I wonder why I thought I could raise a tweenager. It was very selfish of me to take him away from people who knew how his young mind worked. After all, I hadn't been his age for a very long time. Much longer than I would care to remember. I tried to shrug it of as I went to get something to eat. I was hungry, and I also did my best thinking on a full stomach. I took my lunch into Frodo's room to keep an eye on him and see if there is anything that he may need.  
  
He had his quilt pulled up over his face when I walked in, "Frodo, is something wrong?" I asked, wondering why in the world he would do that.  
  
"The light hurts my eyes, Bilbo." I quickly set my food down, pulled the curtains and put out the lamp.  
  
"There, try this." I gently took the blanket off his face and peered into it. His eyes were red and did look very irritated. "Perhaps you shouldn't rub at them so often, it looks as though you are damaging them." I placed my hand on his forehead, "you're quite warm my boy, I'll go get you something to bring your fever down. I'll be right back." I left my lunch (forgotten at the moment) to get cold as I went to fill a basin with cool water and fetch a cloth.  
  
"Well, Mad Baggins," I said to my reflection as I walked past a mirror in the hall, "What have you gotten yourself into this time? He would obviously do better with the Brandybucks. You don't know the first thing about caring for him. It would be best for him anyway. It does him no good to stay here, away from potential playmates and friends. Maybe I should write a letter to them and ask if I might send Frodo back." As I filled the bowl I convinced myself more firmly that this was what I had to do in order to keep the lad happy.  
  
He was sleeping when I returned, so I wasn't able to talk to him about it just then. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. I frowned, I wasn't expecting visitors right now. When I opened it I was both surprised and happy to see Hamfast standing there. "Hello, come in won't you? Would you care to join me in finishing up lunch?"  
  
"Thank you kindly Master Bilbo, but no. I've just come to tell you that poor Sam has the measles. He's having a hard time of it, and no mistake."  
  
"Measles? Oh dear, I suppose that that would mean that Frodo has it too, as they spent a lot of time playing together last week. Hamfast, may I ask you a question if you're not in too big of a rush to return home? Does Frodo seem content here at Bag End?"  
  
The Gaffer licked his lips in thought before answering, "I think so. Yes, I believe so. The boy just seems very melancholy, as if he don't belong nowhere. I've seen it before, in even the happiest of children. And Mr. Frodo ain't had the best of lives, what with his parents dying when he was such a wee thing and all. I think he needs some place where he can feel safe and wanted. That's what all small ones want when they seem unhappy."  
  
"I was thinking about sending him back to Buckland where he can be better understood."  
  
"Well, you can do whatever you think is best, Mr. Bilbo. All I can say to that is that my Sam would be awful sorry to see him go, and I think you would be too. Anyway, it would be best not to send him back now, whatever you do in the future. Measles ain't nothing to mess about with. I need to get back to my home. I've told May to watch and make sure Sam don't scratch, but I'd just as soon be there making sure of it myself. Have a good day."  
  
"And you, Hamfast. Tell Sam I hope he feels better."  
  
"I will, and give my regards to Mr. Frodo."  
  
I shut the door and leaned against it, suddenly feeling very weak. Measles. I knew nothing about measles. I had it when I was younger than Sam, and that was too far back to remember. Well, I was just going to have to learn about it, that was all. I went over to my bookshelf and picked through until I found some medical books. "Heating bricks for aches and pains, something to bring down the fever, liquids and rest are the only ways to treat this illness, there is no cure." so much for making him get better. It seemed as though all I could do was keep him comfortable.  
  
I came back into Frodo's room with a heating brick wrapped in a towel. He was awake so I spoke to him in what I hoped would be a soothing voice. "This is for your feet, son. Are they cold?"  
  
He nodded and cuddled his feet up to the brick as best he could. He did look more comfortable, after all. "Hamfast Gamgee came by while you were asleep. It would appear that Samwise has the measles and I have reason to believe that you do too."  
  
He looked confused, "But I'm not spotty. I thought that measles was just like chicken pox."  
  
"No, it's worse. And the spots don't show up for three or four days, so tomorrow or the next day you can look forward to having spots."  
  
He gave me a small smile, "I can't wait."  
  
I handed him a glass of juice, "Here, I need you to drink this. I'm supposed to make sure that you drink plenty of liquids. Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?"  
  
He snatched a handkerchief that was by his bedside table and sneezed violently into it four times before answering, "Doe thag you." He cleared his nose with a force that made me wince in sympathy, "I mean, no thank you, Bilbo, I think I just want to go back to sleep, if that's alright."  
  
I smiled and rubbed his head, "Of course it's alright, Frodo. You do what you feel like doing, that's your body's way of telling you what it needs to feel better. I'll be here when you wake up, then I can read to you some more, if you would like."  
  
"I would like that very much." He muttered, his eyelids already drooping. I smiled as I started to finish my lunch, which was now very cold indeed. It may have been selfish of me, but I loved him and did want to keep him here with me, even if that wasn't the best thing for him. I would do what was best for Frodo, however, and if that meant giving him up, I supposed I could. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer, Tolkien made them up, I am borrowing them just for fun.  
  
Summary: This is Frodo's point of view. He has heard bits and pieces of a conversation between Bilbo and Hamfast Gamgee and is now wondering what will become of him.  
  
  
I was trying to sleep when the Gaffer came to the door to tell Bilbo about Sam. Bilbo thought I was already asleep, I'm sure. I heard little bits of their conversation and could tell that it was about me. Bilbo was asking his advice on getting rid of me. That hurt like anything! When he came back, we talked for a little bit, then I told him that I was tired, but I really just needed to think. I had the measles, so he couldn't send me back just then, but afterward what would happen to me? I had messed Bilbo's life up so much that he wanted me gone, but I'm sure the Brandybucks wouldn't want me back there. Maybe he would send me over to Tookland and see if they would want me, which I doubted. Why didn't anyone want me? Was I that bad of a person? I decided to straighten up and try to behave myself a little better. I would be anything that Bilbo wanted me to be, if that would make him want to keep me. Painfully, I sat up and looked in the looking glass on top of my dresser, "Frodo Baggins," I said to the reflection, "Hobbit, orphan, nuisance."  
  
I reached for my handkerchief and started to blow my nose forcefully into it, but stopped myself just in time. I remembered the look that Bilbo gave me the last time I did that. It was a look of utter pained disgust. I settled for blowing it softly, which took a lot longer, but it was a small price to pay if I could only stay here. I told myself that I was not to do anything that may annoy Bilbo. I would speak only when spoken to, I would not be noisy when I played outside, I would not touch any of his belongings and most important of all, I would not ask pesky questions like if he would do something with me or what happened on his adventures. I was sure that he was bored to tears by those questions by now.  
  
I was telling my reflection my list when Bilbo came into the room "Who are you talking to, Frodo." He looked confused.  
  
Oh no, if I talked to myself he wouldn't send me to the Brandybucks, he would send me to the mental hospital! I blushed ferociously and mumbled something.  
  
"What was that, my boy?" He sat down in the chair beside my bed and looked intently at me.  
  
"Um, I was talking to… I was talking to myself. I'm really sorry and I won't do it again. I'm sorry if I annoyed you or anything."  
  
I looked up and him and saw that he was smiling, "Let me tell you something. If I became annoyed at all those who talked to themselves I would have to be most annoyed with myself all the time. Now that you're awake, would you like me to read to you?"  
I thought about that, "Only if you really want to. If you have something better to do, I would understand."  
  
He grinned at me and reached for the book the he had started to read to me the day before. It had a lot of good stories in it, and almost before I knew it I was caught up in the world of Elves, pixies and dragons. I was yawning after the second tale, and Bilbo told me to go to sleep.  
  
When I woke up, I felt a bit worse. My throat was very scratchy and I was more stuffed up. I didn't want to open my eyes, they were too sore and the light hurt them, but I could feel someone in my room. I groaned softly. "Bilbo?" I managed to croak. I could hardly recognize my voice.  
  
"Yes my boy?"  
  
"Oh, I was just wondering if that was you. I knew someone was here." I started to cough again, a really hard, deep one that made my already burning lungs hurt worse.  
  
"Of course it's me. Do you anything."  
  
I shook my head, I didn't want to appear to be a demanding nuisance, just a sick, whiney one. "Besides," I reminded myself, "If you behave he might not want to get rid of you." I knew that the chance of him not wanting to be rid of someone who just waltzes into his home and upsets it's routine was slim, though. I wondered how the Brandybucks ever convinced him to take me off their hands. Maybe they offered to pay him or threatened to sue him if he didn't. I had his last name, after all, I guess that's how it works.  
  
"Frodo? Are you alright? Were you listening?"  
  
Oh no! "Frodo Baggins," I upbraided myself, "You've done it again! How often were you told to stop daydreaming and pay attention when someone was speaking to you?" I hung my head, "No Uncle. I was letting my mind wander. I'm so very sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."  
  
Again, that smile of his was almost, well, almost understanding. "My mind often takes trip without my permission. I was just asking if you would like some tea. I made a pot and can't possibly drink it by myself. Besides, it's much better to have some company at tea time."  
  
"Tea sounds lovely, thank you Bilbo."  
  
He smiled again and left the room. A few minutes later he was back carrying a tray with the cups and other tea things. Sugar, honey and the like. Was it really tea time already? I glanced at the mantle piece clock. It was past tea. I had made his tea late. I just didn't seem to be able to do anything that wasn't annoying or causing someone to be put out of their way.   
  
"There you are Frodo, it's not too hot, I hope."  
  
I gratefully accepted the cup and brought it to my lips. It tasted wonderful. We were having a very nice tea time, when, before I knew what was happening, I dropped my teacup! The tea spilled everywhere and the cup smashed into a million pieces. It could never be repaired. Bilbo was looking at me in horror. It had belonged to his mother, and he was very proud of his set. I couldn't replace it, either. "Bilbo, I am more than sorry. I… it was an accident. Please forgive me."  
  
"There now my boy, I forgive you. I'm going to go get something to clean it up. We wouldn't want you to cut your foot."  
  
As soon as he left, I burst into tears. Of course he was going to make me leave now. He might forgive me, but he wouldn't want to keep someone who is so clumsy and stupid. I lay back down and cried myself to sleep before he even came back in the room. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All hobbits portrayed in this piece of fan fiction belong to Mr. Tolkien. I lay no claim to them.  
  
Summary: Bilbo thinks on how Frodo came to live with him and how he has made his life so much more enjoyable and purposeful since he came to Bag End. He also makes a decision.  
  
A/N All spelling mistakes are on purpose, as I am trying to write the way someone sounds when they have a cold.  
  
  
I entered Frodo's room after I had thrown away all of the china. His eyes were red and puffy and he seemed to have been crying. I hated the thought of waking him, so I sat silently, reading in the armchair. I thought back to before Frodo had come to Bag End. Life had been so, well, so dreary without him. I was getting old and I had begun to feel it, even though I was far from looking it. I allowed my mind to wander, taking me back to a few months after his parents died.  
  
***Begin Flashback***  
  
  
I had gone to Buckland to pay Frodo a visit and see how he was getting on. Within those first few days I had seen little of him. He was always locked away in his room (voluntarily, of course) or dabbling in the brook that ran just past the house. It was because he had played in it at dusk that I could finally spend some time with him. The poor lad had caught a frightful cold that morning and was not permitted out of bed. He had wanted to read, but found that his head and eyes were weak, so he had very little to amuse himself with.  
  
I had come into his bedroom with a plateful of tempting dishes that his aunt had sent to him. He wasn't eating the way he should have been, and hadn't been, she told me earlier in my stay, since Drogo and Primula were drowned. I knocked on the door. "Frodo, it's me, may I come in?  
  
"Cub id Bilbo." Came the stuffy reply.  
  
He was sitting up looking miserable. His nose and eyes were very red and he had handkerchiefs wadded up around him and one clutched tightly in his hand. Before him lay a thick picture book that I had sent him for our birthday. The pictures were very brightly colored and seemed to jump off the pages. It was drawn by the elves in Rivendell and brought to me by Gandalf. I thought that my young cousin would like it better than I would, however, and put it away for a special occasion. Esmerelda told me that he looked at it every time he was ill or otherwise confined to his bed. There were few words, so it didn't make his head ache, but the pictures told thousands of stories by themselves. When he was feeling better he would write the stories that he made up and keep them in a special box that used to belong to his grandmother. Once, when he and his parents were visiting Bag End he read them to me. I had a terrible case of the flu, and was laid up in bed myself, so Frodo decided that he was going to take care of me. His mother laughed as he sat at the foot of my bed reading out loud the stories he had written while I looked at the picture it belonged to. She told me later that I was the first person he had ever shared his work with. To this day I feel honored when I think about that.  
  
"How Are you feeling? Are you hungry?" I placed a hand on his forehead, it was warm. I wasn't sure what a normal temperature was supposed to feel like, as it's rather hard to tell from feeling ones own brow, but his was definitely much warmer than is usual.  
  
"Doe, I'b dot hudgry, thadk you. By head hurts sobthing awful ad I cad't breath right. But aside frob that I feel great." He blew his nose and winced as his ears popped. "Ow, well I cad hear better dow. Did you wadt to talk to be, Bilbo?" He looked up at me with a puzzled expression on his face. Hadn't he guessed that I was there only to see him? I thought not, as he had been avoiding me all this time.  
  
"Yes my boy, I wanted to talk to you. How have you been these past few months? I know I haven't been to see you as much as I had hoped, but…" I cut myself off. But what? But I have been too busy? But I forgot about you? But I didn't want to be reminded of what I lost when your parents had died? I opted for the least offensive tactic. "But I have been so busy with things. You understand, don't you?"  
  
He hung his head. "Yes, I udderstad. It seebs everybody's too busy dow a-days. I feel so id the way. Like I don't belog with adybody." He sniffled, this time from more that his cold. "It just hurts sobtimes, you doe?" Then he was quiet.   
  
I had never felt so ashamed of myself. I took him in my arms and just let him cry, reminding myself that he was no more that a frightened sick child who needs care, love and understanding and no one seemed to be able to find the time to give it to him. I made up my mind then and there that I was going to give it to him as soon as possible. I waited until he fell asleep in my arms then stole out of the room to have a talk with Esmerelda and Saradoc.  
  
"That is out of the question, Bilbo Baggins!" Saradoc was angry, and I can't say that I could blame him. After all, if someone came to me out of the blue and asked to take my nephew home to live with them, I would be upset too.  
  
Esmerelda was kinder, "What he means," she shot a glare to her brooding husband, "Is that we feel that Frodo would miss out on so much if he lived at Bag End. He would never be around people…" She stopped suddenly, embarrassed at the fact that she had just called me a hermit, which I am not. "I'm sorry dear, what I mean to say is that Frodo was given to us to look after, and we have to do that. He's our responsibility."  
  
"Bilbo, it's not that we don't trust you," Saradoc seemed to have calmed down, "It's just that a whole house of people would know what's best for a child better than one."  
  
I nodded, I could see their point. But I wasn't done. "I understand. But I also love him as if he were my own. I would like to have him visit me as often as possible, an old hobbit like me needs someone to help him stay young, you know."  
  
"Of course he can visit you," Esmerelda said, obviously trying to sooth my feelings, "Just send word to us and say when you would like him to come."  
  
I nodded again, then rose from my seat. "Now if you will excuse me, I want to sit with my nephew."  
  
***End Flashback***  
  
I sighed, it had been many years until I convinced them that Frodo was old enough to live with me. I stood up suddenly. After all that work to get him to come here, was I really going to give him up that easily? No, I was not. I wanted him here and felt that I could do a good job bringing him up the rest of the way. I loved him as much, if not than, the Brandybucks did, them having their own holy terror, I mean, sweet young bundle of energy to contend with. No, Merry is not a holy terror, he's just very enthusiastic. I had always known that I wanted him to stay, now I knew that I needed him to stay. Perhaps I did have selfish reasons, but I also had a feeling that he was happy here. At least I hoped he was happy here.  
  
I watched the small figure stir in his sleep, uncovering himself as he did so. I gently rearranged the covers under his chin and kissed his forehead. "I love you, Frodo Baggins." I whispered in his ear. Then, taking the lamp with me, I left the room to gather up some blankets. I would sleep in Frodo's room until he was well again. He needed me.  
  
  
A/N I'm sorry it took me so long to write this and hope you all enjoyed it. I want to say thank you to Hermione Eveningfall for beta-reading this and giving me her input on ways that I can make it better. Thanks to the ones who have reviewed it as well. 


End file.
